


Pegging Pariston

by lastrisorto



Series: Turning Tables [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Flogging, Light BDSM, Paddling, Pegging, domme!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastrisorto/pseuds/lastrisorto
Summary: You aren't taking new clients, but for this opportunity, you'll make an exception.
Relationships: Pariston Hill/Reader
Series: Turning Tables [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917736
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Pegging Pariston

The doorbell rang, and after a brief glance at your camera, you buzzed in your 3pm. The man was a client you hadn’t seen before, but he had called a few weeks ago to book with you. Though you weren’t taking new clients, officially, you vaguely remembered allowing one of your favorites to talk you into selling him a…gift certificate of sorts. And generally, you trusted this client’s judgement, so you thought the odds of him gifting your services to someone unsavory were pretty slim. So, when the man said his boss, Netero, had given him the gift certificate, recognition flickered in your memory, and you had taken his appointment and discussed options.

Judging by the man who walked into your waiting area, your instincts were on point. His suit was only outshone by his smile as he strode over to the desk, warm brown eyes meeting yours brazenly as he introduced himself as Pariston Hill. You found yourself smiling back, his good cheer contagious. 

“Many of my clients don’t use their names at all, Mr. Hill. You’re not obligated to, either. Especially given your station.” You were mildly surprised. Most new clients slunk in, the horrifying ordeal of making their deepest desires known to a stranger both a part of the thrill, and cause for immediate shame. You only had a few who had been matter of fact about the situation. You had learned that the men with no societal repercussions to fear were often the ones to set a first impression of confidence. 

They were your favorites to make beg. 

“Oh, it’s fine. You can call me Pariston.”

Your eyes narrowed and your smile faded slightly. You were sure he understood what he had come in for. Most of your clients started trading away their power as soon as they stepped into your waiting area. Addressing you as Mistress. Averting their gaze. They behaved as though they _wanted_ to submit. And really, that was preferable for you. You were in this business to make money, and having clients that looked forward to your services was a good way to keep that money flowing in. Hell, it’s why you hadn’t taken a chance on a new client in ages. Which worked out well for you, because vetting people was exhausting, and there was inevitably always some joker who “wasn’t going to submit without making you work for it.” Which was irritating. Why even book with a Domme? Why waste your time? Or, the countless men who called, asking for a couples session that was a thinly veiled ruse, angling for a threesome. And you had to explain, once again, that no, that wasn’t your particular branch of sex work. 

So. When Pariston smiled his bright smile and met your eyes, his every hand gesture as he spoke the confident markings of a man who never had to try too hard to get what he wanted, it rubbed you the wrong way. When you tried to keep it professional, calmly preparing your forms and asking him what he had decided on for the scene, you noted the darkness that crept into his gaze, a brief chill frosting over the brown and gone as quickly as it arrived, making you wonder if you imagined it. 

“Everything.” The word was spoken with clarity, but surely you had misheard him. That, or he was vastly underestimating the amount of hardware and leather you had tucked neatly away just one room over.

“‘Everything’ comes with a heavier cost than what has been paid for,” and not for the first time, you reminded yourself of the conversation you had with him over the phone, and that he did, indeed, know what services you offered.

Pariston let out a small hum, thinking a moment, before smiling again and making a flippant gesture with his hand.

“Start with your favorite, then. We’ll see what time allows.”

With releases signed, safewords discussed, and his nen sealed, you led Pariston into your dungeon.

…

After telling Pariston to strip, you had picked out a few of your favorite toys leading him over to your new bench and securing him there.

You had to admit, he looked pretty good like this. The bondage bench hadn’t been very imaginatively named, but it was an effective piece of furniture. Black vinyl padding the stainless steel, it looked fragile but could hold the weight of a client considerably larger than Pariston’s toned frame. It had padded rests for knees and elbows, the largest cushion being in the middle, where Pariston’s abdomen currently rested. The donut-shaped ring was perfectly placed to cradle his handsome face, allowing him to remain prone through the encounter while still being able to speak his safeword if he needed to. The straps it came with had clips for a quick-release, and were adjustable. Ten straps in total, holding Pariston down to your bench, ass up and legs spread, as he asked you what you were going to do first.

“That’s not for you to know. Don’t speak unless spoken to.” You decided on the paddle first. Your hand gently caressed the skin of Pariston’s ass, and he made a noise of enjoyment. Before he could get too used to the sensation, you brought your paddle down, connecting with his ass with a satisfying “thwack.” Pariston, in turn, let out a soft gasp of appreciation as you brought the paddle down for another strike. You continued on for a bit before, satisfied with the rosy glow you had given Pariston’s ass, you decided to move on to the flogger.

You brought the tails of the flogger down across his shoulders, repeating the motion until you had painted lovely red lines criss-crossing the meat of his shoulders. By the final strokes, though, you were mildly disappointed that he was no longer making any sort of noise, pleasured or pained. You paused, tangling a hand in thick blonde locks, arching his head back to examine his expression. Pariston wore a grin, eyes glinting his joy as he looked up at you.

“Are you tired already? _Mistress_?” You allowed your brow to knit in a frown, dropping your grip on the man’s hair to allow his face to fall back onto the padded rest. Walking to your toy rack, you found an appropriately sized ball gag, and you walked back to your client, lifting his head again by his hair. You matter-of-factly fastened the gag into place as Pariston made a small noise of dismay. 

“I told you not to speak unless spoken to. You have enough slack to tap your safeword?” Pariston’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded, and you released his hair once again.

“Good.” 

With Pariston once again facing the ground, you gave your selected toys a quick once-over. My, he was a bratty sub. You quickly ran over your consultation call with him, remembering what he was interested in trying, what he had never experienced, what he might be open to...your eyes landed on your harness, and the mid-sized dildo you used most often with it. You smiled, your decision having been made. Gathering your strap, as well as a bottle of lube, you made your way back to the bound man. Before beginning, you attached your strap, securing the dildo in front and double checking the buckles to make sure the fit was right. With the knowledge that your strap wasn’t going anywhere, you began to prep the man in front of you.

You stroked a hand down Pariston’s back, starting at the nape of his neck and caressing over the lash marks, taking in the sigh of pleasure he let out through his nose. You stroked a line down his spine to gently cup his ass, opening the bottle of lube with your other hand and squirting a small amount onto your fingers where they pulled away from Pariston’s skin. Pressing a finger against his asshole, you began to work the lubed digit into his tight sphincter. Pariston made a sound around the gag, and you divided your attention between what you were doing with your hand, and what he was doing with his. You needed to be sure he wasn’t tapping his safeword. From all appearances, though, he didn’t protest. With one finger snugly in his ass, you began to work in a second, gently pumping and scissoring the digits while Pariston let out an unmistakable groan against his gag. 

You pumped your fingers into him, brushing his prostate as you did, and smiled as the blonde tried to back himself up against your hand. The restraints kept him from getting very far, but it was nice to see he was enjoying himself. Withdrawing your fingers, you spread lube on your dildo, positioning the head at Pariston’s ass. You slipped the head in, then another inch. Then, another, until half of the length was inside. You took him gently at first, allowing him to adjust to the size of your strap-on, as you slid inch by inch into him. The muscles of his legs were tight, trembling slightly as he tried to put his weight on his knees to press against you.

“Shh, relax.” You smoothed a hand over his ass, caressing the reddened flesh as he finally relaxed into the bonds, allowing the bench to hold his weight. You grinned. This was exactly what you had been waiting for.

With a snap of your hips, you began to thrust within Pariston. Not too deep, but careful to brush against his prostate rather than slamming directly against it. Building your pace carefully, you grabbed his hips for leverage as you fucked into him. You weren’t completely confident in his ability to reason around the sensation at this point, and to be honest, you kind of wanted to hear a less muffled version of the needy noises he was making. Leaning over his back, you ground your hips against his ass, pulling a low moan from Pariston’s lips, the wanton noise freed by you unfastening the ball gag and tossing it onto the tray you’d set up for used toys. 

Resuming your previous pace was easy, spurred on by Pariston’s soft moans as you were. He ground his cock against the main supporting cushion of the bench, seeking any sort of friction he could find. You snapped your hips at a slightly different angle, slamming into his prostate and drawing a loud groan from the blonde under you. You hit the same spot a few times before setting a new rhythm, alternating between deep thrusts and stimulation to his prostate. You gripped the meat of his ass cheek, giving it a soft slap and eliciting a gasp from Pariston.

“Is this what you came here for? I know it’s not _everything_ , but you’re moaning like it’s _something_ you like. You may cum, if you’re able to.” 

In lieu of response, Pariston softly groaned something in the shape of an affirmation.

Pariston bucked his hips against the bench in time with your thrusts, moaning his pleasure, whimpering his frustration. You dug your nails into his hips as you ground against his prostate, and he groaned as he finally came, grinding against the cushion and making a mess of the vinyl. You tutted quietly as you pulled out, smiling as he whimpered at the stimulation of his tender ass. Removing the harness, you began unfastening his restraints, rubbing the indentations from his skin, from where he had pulled against the straps, massaging feeling back into arms and legs that had been in one position for a while. You ran a hand through his hair, waiting for Pariston to come back down from his high. 

After a few moments, you were able to help him up, and into a more comfortable seat. You offered him water, and helped clean him off with a warm, moist towel. His eyes were glazed slightly, and you had to repeat yourself a few times to get through his fucked-out haze. You showed him the restroom and gave him his clothes, tidying up your dungeon while he cleaned up. Though most of your used toys ended up in their designated place for washing, some required more than a quick disinfect. You busied yourself for some time, before a once-more smiling Pariston emerged from the restroom. This time, it was easier for you to see the edges of the facade. His eyes had shadows, and his smile was a little sharper than before. He winked at you as he handed you an envelope.

“I understand now. It’s a shame you’re not taking new clients. Please, let me know if any of your clients...disappear. I would love to be the first notified if there’s an opening.”

You looked in the envelope as he let himself out. That. That was a whole lot of Jenny. You might need to rethink whether you could take on another client. You sighed. Why couldn’t anything ever be simple?


End file.
